


Our Joys Will Double

by artemisgrace



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Romance, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Romance, hades au, mythology AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisgrace/pseuds/artemisgrace
Summary: This was written as a commission for a lovely repeat client of mine. They asked for a mythology AU in which Mink was the god of he Underworld, Hades, and Aoba was a mortal who stumbled into his domain.Love blooms like spring flowers between two unlikely lovers.





	Our Joys Will Double

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy what will be my 7th fic here on AO3 :) 
> 
> If y'all wanna keep up with my latest activities, writing and art and the like, you can check out my twitter: @artemisgraceart
> 
> And because Artemis is the name and shameless self-promotion is the game, I'm also gonna put my commissions email up here: artemisgracecommissions@gmail.com

Aoba woke in darkness, and the first thing that he found himself conscious of was the agonizing ache in his head. He must have hit it when he fell …

He had gotten into another fight today, with yet another person who wouldn’t let him leave his Sly-Blue days behind him. He was sick of the conflict, of other people expecting the worst of him, so matter what good he did. He needed to blow off some steam, so, as had become his habit lately, he went out into the woods that grew at the edge of the island he called home, exploring the countryside for want of a better thing to do. He hadn’t been to that particular part of the forest before, the foliage being so much thicker here, blocking out most of the sunlight and turning what little light filtered through into a shade of dark green, creating an unnerving air of mystery. 

He had discovered, obscured by the tangled vines and undergrowth other many seasons, the stones of the opening of a long-since abandoned well. Pulling away matted greenery, he gradually revealed the ring of stones surrounding the mouth of the well, all of them weathered with possibly centuries of age, not a sharp edge to be seen, only smoothness wrought by erosion and age. 

He had leaned in for a better look, to try to see if he could glimpse the bottom of the well, his better judgement tempered by curiosity, and … the rocks had given way under Aoba’s weight, sending him tumbling into the dark, into the black abyss so much deeper than any normal well should be. 

***

That was the last thing he remembered before waking. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision of the greyish fog that seemed to linger before him, but to no avail. The fog was not, as Aoba had first thought, an illusion resulting from the knock he had taken to the head, but an actual physical thing, its wisps swirling about as Aoba heaved himself upright and into a standing position. He sniffed the air, trying to identify the fog by scent. 

It was smoke. One doesn’t generally find smoke at the bottom of a well, not even strange ancient ones in the middle of a forest. Where could Aoba possibly be?

Staggering dizzily for a few steps before regaining his balance, Aoba took a look around. The smoke seemed to extend all the way to the horizon, or at least it obscured the horizon, for Aoba could not see it. He realized that he was standing in tall grass, which also appeared to go all the way to the edges of his vision, the grass and the smoke mingling such that, some distance away, Aoba couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

The only thing that broke up the grey monotony of the landscape was the dull red-orange glow of distant fires and the occasional ember that floated past Aoba’s face on a warm breeze. Presumably, those fires were the source of all this smoke. Looking around, Aoba couldn’t see any features beyond the grass and grey air, no landmarks whatsoever apart from the fires in the distance. For lack of any other thing to go towards, Aoba began to shuffle off in the direction of the flames.

As he moved closer, Aoba began to the faint cries ringing out over the seemingly endless field, carried on the wind along with the bright pinpricks of embers still alight in the air. He couldn’t be sure whether the cries were truly wordless, or whether he just couldn’t understand them, but either way he could make out no meaning in the shouts that reached his ears, merely the emotion of it. They didn’t sound fearful, they didn’t sound pained; they just sounded … lost. As though they were calling out to each other, to find each other. Perhaps they would. 

The cries were unsettling in themselves, but when the first humanoid figure emerged from the smoke off to his right, Aoba felt his heart fly up into his throat, too startled to even run, and he froze in place, a barely-concealed shudder running up his spine. The figure appeared completely unconcerned with him, however, shuffling past him without even a glance in his direction. Not that it could have glanced at him; unless Aoba’s eyes deceived him, the figure had no face and no eyes with which to see.

“Hey!” Aoba called out as the figure passed him and continued on ahead, travelling in the direction of the fire’s glow just as Aoba had been. It didn’t answer, ignoring Aoba’s shout and moving on with a definite sense of purpose, as if it had a destination in mind and a specific time it had to be there. As if it had an appointment to get to. 

Aoba followed it, finding the company of some sort of grey incorporeal spirit to be preferable to being alone on this monotone plane … if just barely preferable. As they walked, more spirits began to join them, a crowd of figures of different shapes and sizes, though all of them appeared human, creating a shuffling herd marching into the fog. 

Realizing that he was surrounded, being shepherded along by a throng of what he could only assume were ghosts, Aoba began to panic, but while the spirits looked to be incorporeal, they were in fact rather solid, and Aoba could not push through them. He was practically carried along by the swarming mass of grey, feeling the rustling of tall grass against his legs until, suddenly, the grass gave way to what seemed to be planks underfoot. Confusion overtook him as he heard the gentle sloshing of water over the swishing of grass and distant cries that had become background noise to Aoba, so common were they in this place. A dock? Aoba hadn’t noticed them approaching a dock or indeed a river; it seemed to appear as if out of nowhere, as if the fog itself had morphed to form the wood he now stood upon.

There was a boat upon the water, a sort of gondola, except much longer and rapidly filling up with strange spirit passengers. He let himself be ushered into the boat, ghostly hands steadying him when he stumbled, almost falling out of the boat. Looking over the side, Aoba couldn’t see the bottom of the river, it was as if there wasn’t one, as if the river had the depth of an ocean. He shivered to think what things may be lurking far beneath the dark waters. 

From out of the fog up ahead, a far shore emerged, upon which there seemed to be a dark forest of tall pine trees. The orange glow of fire was much brighter now, Aoba could see it flickering in the gaps between the trees, and, amidst the flames, he could see some kind of amorphous shape, a pile of … something, and upon drawing closer, Aoba could see a figure sitting at the top of the pile, on some sort of throne, proud and imposing.

Upon docking, the crowd of spirits disembarked, Aoba along with them, and proceeded to form a line, much more orderly than the mass had been before getting on. There was something special about this far shore, and all the ghosts appeared to stand straighter, to solidify, and Aoba could see that, with each step, each spirit began to look much more human and individual, bodies and faces coalescing from smoke to actual people. They weren’t frightening, as Aoba might have previously expected; they were just people, people looking to move on.

The line marched its way up to the pile and the figure that sat atop it; Aoba could now recognize the pile to be some kind of wreckage, metal and wood and, running through it, great thick chains of iron, weaving together to lend the pile structure, a sort of rusted lattice. Drawing close to the front of the line, Aoba could also now clearly see the figure he’d first glimpsed from a distance, a tall man, incredibly muscular and basically built like the trunk of one of the great pines that surrounded the clearing in which he reclined upon his great, broken throne. He had rich brown skin with undertones of burnt-umber, which the fires brought out as the deep orange flickered across the sharp lines of his face. He had long dreadlocks spilling down over his shoulders, the colors a gradient of brown to pink to that same fire-red, a red that Aoba could also see reflected in the dark irises of his eyes. 

He was indeed an imposing figure, frightening in all truth, a man of evident strength, of a warrior’s elegance the sort that hinted at a dark, violent undercurrent running beneath his skin. Aoba felt adrenaline release in his own body and he fought the urge to run. He was almost to the front of the line, and he got the distinct impression that, should he run, the man on the throne would have absolutely no trouble stopping him. 

Aoba had been too preoccupied watching the man to pay attention to what was happening to the ghosts in line ahead of him, but then, suddenly, it was the turn of the spirit directly in front of him. It seemed to be a woman, this spirit, the one who had steadied Aoba when he had lost his balance in the boat. Aoba looked on as the man on the throne regarded her with a sharp, appraising eye, as if he were looking all the way into the woman’s heart, into her soul. The man nodded then, and the woman let out a sigh of relief, a peaceful look crossing her face before the grey material of which she had been composed dissipated, as smoke on the wind, and suddenly she was gone, blown away on a warm wind. Aoba’s eyes widened, and before his better sense could catch up with him, he lunged forward.

“What the hell?” Aoba shouted up to the man, who now regarded Aoba with his dark gaze, “What did you do to her?”

He began to climb the pile in his righteous, if ill-advised, anger, clambering up to confront this giant asshole with his infuriatingly calm expression. He heaved himself up by grabbing the chains that were interlaced though the pile, until he suddenly realized, his attention having been drawn by a sudden small movement of the man’s enormous leg, that the chain Aoba now held in his hands was attached to the man’s ankle. He was a prisoner?

“Oh!” Aoba exclaimed, “Wait, I’ll help!”

The man merely continued to observe Aoba, calmly, without expression. 

The end of the chain appeared to be trapped among a few twisted pieces of metal sticking out of the pile, and Aoba got down onto his knees to grab at the chain, before flinging himself back, trying to use his own body weight to help him free the chain. It didn’t work, the chain was stuck fast, and Aoba only succeeded in losing his balance and tumbling over backwards as his grip on the chain slipped, sending himself hurtling down the hill, feeling as though he hit every sharp edge there was to hit on his way down. 

At this, the man let out a low chuckle, more of a rumble than a laugh and the first sound Aoba had actually heard from him, standing up from his seat and stepping forward, the chain attached to the manacle around his leg slipping free without even a hint of effort from the man. Fuck, he must be strong. Aoba hadn’t been able to budge it, but this man didn’t seem to even notice the hindrance. 

He walked forward towards Aoba, looming over Aoba and casting a shadow over Aoba’s entire body as he bent down and extended a hand to Aoba, which he took with some reluctance. The man heaved him upright, and Aoba proceeded to give himself a brief once-over, checking that he wasn’t injured. He seemed fine. Now what was this dude’s deal?

“Thanks,” Aoba said, craning his neck to look up into the man’s face, “So who are you?”

The man gave another rumbling chuckle, responding in a voice as deep as the river Aoba had crossed to get here.

“I am called Mink. I am the lord of this place.”

“Uh, ok … and what is this place exactly?”

The man straight up laughed this time, and Aoba furrowed his eyebrows, a sour expression creeping onto his face. How the fuck was Aoba supposed to know?

“This is the Underworld, boy. Where else do you think this could be, if not the Underworld?”

Ok, well, that seemed pretty obvious, now that this guy, Mink, had said it. The whole boat-carrying-ghosts-across-a-big-ass-river thing should have rung a bell, but to be fair, Aoba had been having a fucking weird day. Excuse him if ancient mythology wasn’t the first thing on his mind.

“Hey, look,” Aoba defended himself, “all I know is I fell down a well and woke up here.”

He paused, a terrifying thought crossing his mind.

“Oh god … am I dead? Is that why I’m here, I fell and died in the well? Oh god, nobody will ever know what happened to me …”

Mink placed a large, heavy hand upon Aoba’s shoulder in what would have been a comforting gesture if Aoba hadn’t bruised it in his fall, the sting causing him to flinch.

“You are not dead,” Mink assured him, “I cannot say why you are here, but you are still alive.”

Mink looked about them, gazing out over his domain.

“You are the first living person to ever come here.”

Aoba looked as well, following Mink’s eyes, and indeed, all he could see was a line of ghosts extending into the distance, all the way to the river where the ferryman waited. No signs of life, apart from the trees and the grass, much of which was burning.

“Huh …” Aoba would’ve liked to say something smarter, but nothing really came to mind. This situation was extraordinary, defying explanation or clever remarks. 

Minks turned away from him then, moving back to sit upon his throne again.

“You should turn back. You are alive, this place is not for you.”

That could be true, but Aoba has always been contrary, and he instantly resents the dismissal.

“I don’t have to if I don’t want to.”

“What?” Mink appeared genuinely surprised.

“What if I wanna stay?”

Mink appeared to consider it, still looking somewhat perplexed.

“Then I suppose you may stay.”

“Then I’m gonna,” Aoba declared, folding him arms in a gesture of finality. 

“If you stay here, however, I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you.”

“What?”

“You are an outsider here. I can’t have you causing trouble.”

“I’m not gonna cause trouble!” Aoba exclaimed angrily.

“Are you not,” Mink deadpanned, making direct eye contact with Aoba. It wasn’t a question, though it may have been phrased like one. It was a statement of distrust.

“Ugh, fine!” Aoba threw his hands up in the air. He may have been angry, but he knew well enough that he had little choice.

“You’ve disturbed my work long enough today,” Mink turned his eyes back to the line of souls waiting patiently for judgement, “I’ll have my hound lead to my home, and you may wait there.”

Mink snapped his fingers and a large dog loped out from the tree line and up the pile to stand at Mink’s side. Aoba was surprised to see that the dog had three heads, at least until he remembered the stories. Of course Mink had a three-headed dog. He spoke to the hound in a language Aoba didn’t recognize, and the animal bounded around to Aoba and began nudging him in the backs of his legs, encouraging him to move down the slope and towards the forest. 

“Hey, what’s the dog’s name?” Aoba asked as he began to negotiate his way across the pile of wreckage.

Mink said nothing, not even bothering to look at Aoba, instead merely gesturing to the next spirit in line to come up to be assessed. It would seem that the three-headed dog didn’t have a name.

Arguing with Mink seemed largely pointless, as did any attempt at further conversation, so Aoba let himself be led. The dog didn’t seem nearly so cranky as his owner, jumping about playfully as he shepherded Aoba through the trees, occasionally coming up to sniff and lick at Aoba’s hands, making him giggle at the ticklish feeling.

It wasn’t long before Aoba could see a cabin emerging from between the pines. It was rather surprising. Aoba would have expected the lord of the Underworld to have some sort of palace, a castle or something, not just a log cabin. Something more palatial, at any rate. To be fair though, it was very large and very fancy as log cabins went.

The door was unlocked as the dog nudged Aoba to open it, though, he supposed, it was unlikely the lord of the dead would ever have need of a lock on his door. The cabin was well-lit inside, and from the moment he stepped in, with the dog by his side, Aoba could hear the crackling of a fire and welcomed its comforting heat on his face. The interior was sparsely decorated but quite comfortable looking, with geometrically patterned woven rugs covering the wood of the floor. It was surprisingly homey. It was the house of a man, not a powerful otherworldly being. 

The dog continued to nudge Aoba along through the house until they came to a room at the end of a hall. The door was ajar and a low, warm light spilled through the gap, beckoning Aoba inside. It was clearly a spare bedroom. Again, sparsely decorated but still very homey. Aoba could smell fresh clean sheets under the cinnamon scent that seemed to fill the entire house. 

Aoba halted in his examination of the room when he heard a small bark, something more of a yelp, from down by his feet. Panicked that he had stepped on Mink’s dog’s tail or something, Aoba jumped to the side, looking down to where he’d heard the sound. In that place on the floor, where the dog had sat down to watch Aoba explore the room, there was not one large dog with three heads, but three small dogs, each with only the one head and an incredible amount of fluffy fur. One guard had become three little cloud-like puff balls, yapping happily at Aoba’s attention. 

“Ohoho!” Aoba cooed, kneeling down before sitting cross-legged on the floor, stretching his arms out to the three puppies, who jumped agreeably into Aoba’s lap, filling his entire vison with fluff and little wet noses. “You’re so cute!”

He picked up one of the puppies, who began to enthusiastically lick Aoba’s nose. 

“Mink hasn’t named you, has he?” Aoba asked the puppy, who barked, seemingly in affirmation, “That’s sad. You should have a name. Shall I name you?”

The other puppies joined in a chorus of small, cheerful barks.

“Hehehe! Okay then,” Aoba said, pondering the options for a moment before continuing, “I’ll call you Ren.”

The puppies seemed to approve, jumping up to lick Aoba exuberantly. Aoba had to admit that he’d had a truly bizarre and exhausting day, but cuddling with three fluffy puppies certainly helped him feel better. The tiredness hit him all at once, and the neatly turned-down bed behind him became increasingly appealing. 

He stood, with some objection from the puppies who’d clearly been enjoying the attention, and moved to get into bed, flipping back the covers. He paused for a moment, thinking, before going ahead and stripping down to his underwear, leaving the rest of his clothing folded half-assedly on the floor next to the bedframe. It wouldn’t do to get these nice clean sheets dirty, even if he did feel slightly awkward undressing in a stranger’s house when said stranger wasn’t home. And that was totally disregarding the fact that the house owner was also the lord of the dead …

Once settled into bed, all three puppies snuggling into bed with him, Aoba drifted off fairly quickly, much more at home in the world of the dead than he would have thought possible. He dreamt of embers floating on the breeze, and the warm glow of a fire reflecting off the visage of a tall, proud man in chains.

***

Aoba was asleep when Mink returned home, having finished judging that day’s boatload of souls. There would, of course, be another along tomorrow, but until then, Mink had the time to rest. Were he simply a god, born divine, sleep would not have been necessary, but Mink had been human once, before he’d taken up the mantle of the lord of the Underworld, and sleep still called him from time to time, if much less often than it would for a normal human. 

Stalking his way quietly down the hall, his chains making only the faintest of clinking noises, muffled as they were by the rugs he walked upon, Mink made his way down to the guest room where the exceptional and strange Aoba lay dreaming. He opened the door a crack and silently peered into the room, where he could see Aoba curled up in bed with the hound in its three-puppy form. The boy must have fallen asleep quickly, Mink observed, as the lamp still shone its soft warm light across Aoba’s peaceful sleeping face.

Mink snuck into the room, moving as silently as possible, going over to the bedside table upon which the lamp rested and flicking the switch to turn it off, so that Aoba might sleep in darkness and not be woken by the light. He then turned to leave but, after a moment of consideration, he moved instead over to the closet at the far end of the room, swinging the door smoothly open and retrieving an extra blanket, woolen and thick, which he then gently spread over Aoba’s sleeping form. Mink couldn’t feel cold anymore, but he knew that Aoba still could. 

He left as silently as he had come, closing the door behind him, leaving no sign that he’d even been there, but for the lamp now gone dark, and the extra blanket that Aoba nuzzled into as he slept.

Much in the way that the seat one chooses one’s the first day of class becomes the precedence for the rest of the term, the next day, after Aoba awoke, set the tone for the next couple of weeks. 

Mink’s life was surprisingly routine for a death deity. It seemed that his days revolved entirely around his work, and he rose long before Aoba every morning, or at least what Aoba assumed to be morning, it was hard to tell as the light never really changed here. He would go off to sit upon his throne, dispensing judgement to hundreds of thousands of souls, sending them to heaven, hell, or, for those with unfinished business, Mink would occasionally grant permission for the spirit to be reincarnated and live again, whichever option best suited each individual. Aoba didn’t see much of him during that time, instead choosing to explore the interior of Mink’s house and the forest around it, or to play with Ren. 

One day, he discovered Mink’s library, a room that looked far too large to exist within the space of the cabin, but then, Aoba considered, it was unlikely that the ordinary rules of physics would operate here as they do in the living world. He had seen Mink reading books in the evenings, seemingly a different one every night, so he’d known Mink had a book collection, but he hadn’t realized that Mink had an entire library of his own, not until he stumbled upon it one day. It was magnificent in its selection, eclectic, and Aoba was convinced that he could live an entire lifetime here without running out of reading material. He suspected an immortal would have great need of something like that.

In the evenings, Mink would come back to the cabin and he and Aoba would dine together. It was these dinners that gave Aoba the greatest insight into Mink’s character. Outwardly, the man appeared cold and distant, but Aoba soon learned better. Mink would feed Ren scraps under the table, not merely the leftovers, but also some of the choice bits, despite his pretense of not caring for the animal. He had a bird too, Aoba learned, named Huracan, of which Mink was immensely fond, letting it sit upon his shoulder as Mink walked around the house. 

Over time, Mink became much more comfortable with Aoba’s presence in his home, allowing Aoba to follow him around as he conducted his work, inviting Aoba to accompany him on walks in the forest. Surveying his territory, Mink had said, but Aoba was relatively sure that Mink just liked a forest promenade. Aoba did too. Eventually, their shared intimacies stretched to sitting close beside each other in front of the fire of an evening, and one night Aoba got his courage up enough to kiss Mink, as he’d been thinking of doing since the moment he’d realized he had nothing to fear, the moment he was free to appreciate Mink’s physique without the tinge of uncertainty he’d experienced when he’d first arrived. 

It was quite a physique, and Aoba felt intensely appreciative. 

They had been sitting in front of the fire that evening, as they often did, but there was something about Mink that night, an openness to his expressions as he looked at Aoba. Aoba couldn’t help but find himself fixated on the curves of Mink’s lips, only a few inches away from his own as they sat beside each other, facing each other, an air of expectation filling the space between them. He had leaned forward to bring their lips into contact, and he’d met no resistance, though he couldn’t call Mink the most enthusiastic of responders … without much of a reaction from Mink, doubt had wormed its way into Aoba’s mind. What if Mink didn’t really feel the same? What if Aoba had just misinterpreted the signs Mink had been giving him, or, perhaps there hadn’t even been any signs at all? Perhaps Aoba’s hopeful mind had invented a connection that just wasn’t there …

It was in that moment, as Aoba began to pull away, that Mink, perhaps sensing Aoba’s distress, lunged forward to kiss him, for real this time, his hands moving to cup Aoba’s head, fingers entangling themselves into Aoba’s long locks of hair. There was no mistaking that gesture. Mink did return Aoba’s sentiments, enthusiastically. 

They had gone to bed separately that night, although, from the expression in Mink’s eyes and the quiet tension that thrummed between them like a plucked guitar string, Aoba could tell that the next step wouldn’t be far off. About time, too. Aoba had been thinking about Mink ripping his clothes off for weeks now, and it had been damn hard to keep that fact to himself, especially when presented with a shirtless Mink reading a book in the living room one night. 

They managed to keep to themselves for about a day and a half after that, taking some time to allow this new development in their relationship to really sink in, Aoba supposed. He spent his day in the library, waiting for Mink to come home, psyching himself up to make his move the minute the death deity entered the room. The fantasies that sprang unbidden to his mind made it exceptionally difficult to pay attention to the book he was meant to be reading, so after a while he gave it up in favor of pacing the room, full to bursting with nervous energy.

***

He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard Mink’s voice calling out, trying to figure out where Aoba was. Aoba rushed over to the library door, heaving it open and shouting out into the hallway.

“I’m in the library, Mink!” he called out before turning and hurrying over to an old leather armchair, scrambling to take up a nonchalant pose, to seem as though he hadn’t spent the past couple of hours obsessing over how to get Mink to take his pants off.

He swallowed hard as Mink entered the room. If Aoba didn’t know better, he’d suspect that Mink had done himself up a bit today in anticipation of tonight’s unofficial plans. He looked neater than usual and he’d clearly shaved this morning, rendering his face kissably smooth. It made Aoba blush to think of Mink fussing over his appearance for Aoba’s sake. It made him feel … special.

Mink walked up, standing close enough to fairly tower over Aoba, something which Aoba had to admit seriously turned him on. He wouldn’t have ever considered himself before to have anything like a “size kink,” but Mink was built like a mountain of hard muscle and Aoba was just the right height to plant his face directly into Mink’s pecs, which was, for lack of a better descriptor, fucking perfection. 

“How was your day?” Mink asked in a low rumble, looking down into Aoba’s eyes.

Seriously? That’s what Mink was going with? Well, they do say that if you want something done, you’d better do it yourself, Aoba considers before getting up on his tiptoes to grab Mink face and bring it down to his own level so he could kiss the ever-living daylights out of the taller man. While he couldn’t necessarily count on Mink to start any physical interaction, Aoba could certainly count on Mink to respond in kind, giving back as good as he got.

Aoba was beginning to strongly suspect that Mink had some sort of obsession with Aoba’s hair, because the first thing Mink did, just as he’d done the first time they had kissed, was to wind his fingers into Aoba’s hair, carding through the soft strands with careful fingers. 

Aoba had chosen his location carefully once he’d known Mink was coming to the library; his choice to stand next to the armchair was far from coincidental, however much he’d like it to appear so, rather, it was strategic. Without breaking their heated kiss, Aoba maneuvered Mink around until his back was toward the chair, and then proceeded to push, separating their lips with a satisfying smacking noise, and shoving Mink down to sit upon the armchair. Mink looked up at him in surprise for a moment at the rough treatment, but his surprise quickly cleared as Aoba clambered, somewhat less elegantly than he’d have liked, into Mink’s lap.

To his credit, Mink appeared to be quite the adaptive man, just going with this new flow that Aoba had begun, circling his arms around Aoba’s waist and pulling him ever closer, flush against Mink’s muscled chest. Aoba gasped as Mink’s hands slid their way up Aoba’s back, underneath his shirt, calloused hands tracing the bumps of Aoba’s spine and causing Aoba to arch his back in sensitivity. 

There were entirely too many items of clothing between them, Aoba abruptly decided, sliding his hands down to the hem of Mink’s shirt, not missing out on the opportunity to grope Mink’s hard chest on the way, and grabbed at the cloth, yanking it up in an unmistakable demand for its removal. Mink obliged with a chuckle, aiding Aoba’s relatively frantic hands in removing the offending garment before starting in on Aoba’s own shirt, sliding it up and grazing Aoba’s nipples on his way in a movement that could have been construed as accidental, were it not for Mink’s appreciative smirk at the shiver it elicited in Aoba. 

Aoba ground his hips down hard into Mink’s lap to get back at him, a smirk of his own spreading across his own face at Mink’s startled moan. Mink however, as Aoba had observed before, was determined to give as good as he received, and he took Aoba’s waist into large, warm hands, pulling Aoba downward just as he lifted his own hips in a slow, deliberate grind, the two of them sliding flush against each other from hips to chest, panting out low moans into each other’s mouths as they shared kiss after kiss.

Aoba could have easily left it at that, finding his climax sitting half-clothed grinding into Mink’s lap, and could have been entirely happy with it, however, Aoba had greater plans for this evening. Said plans involved a distinct lack of pants and underwear, so he’d have to do something about that. 

He slid out of Mink’s lap, standing up, chest heaving with heavy breaths and a bright blush glowing from his cheeks down to his chest. Mink seemed confused for a moment at Aoba parting from him, that is until Aoba took a deep breath to steady himself and proceeded to drop his jeans and underwear, both of which had been getting rather uncomfortably tight, all in one go. Mink grinned at him, unashamedly appreciating the view.

“I suppose that’s a hint for me to take off my own garments?” Mink asked, amused.

“Take a guess,” Aoba countered with a smile, reaching forward to unbuckle Mink’s belt, making his intentions more than clear, even if said belt proved to be a bit difficult to undo with its wearer still sitting down.  
Seeing Aoba’s difficulty, Mink obligingly stood, making quick work of the buckle and shucking his remaining clothing with ease. Aoba, for his own part, found himself stuck to the spot, unable not to stare. He’d imagined, of course, what Mink would look like bare of trousers and underwear, but the truth of it was honestly much more impressive, all muscular thighs and … yeah, Aoba definitely had a thing for size difference, because Mink was large in every aspect. Damn. 

“Like what you see?” Mink asked, and Aoba could practically hear the shit-eating grin that was on his face.

Aoba blushed deeper, embarrassed at being caught staring, though, really, who could blame him? Mink was literally everything Aoba liked in a man, even beyond personality, down to his rock-hard abs and … the whole situation just to the south of that. Enough teasing, Aoba thought, and he pushed the now naked Mink back into the chair, climbing back up to take his previous place in Mink’s lap, this time with the added benefit of no clothing separating them. 

It heightened every sensation, the slide of skin against skin, and Aoba moaned out at the closeness he felt in that moment as much as at the welcome touch of Mink’s hand as it wrapped around Aoba’s cock. It wasn’t the sort of thing that Aoba had ever been any good at expressing, but this thing with Mink, what they were sharing, it meant a lot to him. It was special in a way he found hard to describe.

They rocked together for a few moments as Aoba moved his hand down to mirror Mink’s own actions, stroking Mink with purpose as they shared open-mouthed kisses, but Aoba had his plan, and it honestly couldn’t wait any longer to be implemented, lest they both come now and end Aoba’s scheme before it began. 

“Mink,” he said, breaking their kiss and moving to mouth at Mink’s jaw and neck in between words, “I wanna do something. Something specific.”

“And what might that be, Aoba?” Mink responded, rubbing the fingers of the hand not currently occupied with fondling Aoba’s erection across Aoba’s right nipple, making answering rather unnecessarily difficult.  
“Mmmm,” Aoba began, finding himself extremely distracted from what he’d been intending to say, “I want you in me, Mink.”

Mink growled and Aoba could feel him twitch in Aoba’s grasp as he lunged forward to plant a hard, sucking kiss on Aoba’s throat, no doubt leaving a hickey magnificent enough for the history books.   
Aoba was startled to suddenly feel very slick fingers reaching their way down over Aoba’s backside, leaving a somewhat chilly trail in their wake. 

“Wait, where’d you get the lube?” Aoba questioned Mink, confused. He hadn’t seen any in here, which was appropriate really, considering this was a library.

“Aoba, I’m a god.” Mink responded concisely, obviously eager to get on with the task at hand.

“Oh … ohhhhh,” Aoba began with an affirmation of understanding, since he could imagine how a deity, with all the supernatural powers the title alluded to, could magic lube into existence. The simple agreement, however, transformed into a long, drawn-out moan as Mink circled a slippery finger around Aoba’s entrance before gently, but firmly, pushing in. 

“Mmm,” Aoba let moans fall from his lips like praises as Mink opened him up, stroking him from the inside and stringing out the pleasure until Aoba could hardly stand it anymore, reaching back to still Mink’s hand and gesturing to him that Aoba was ready for more.

Mink let his fingers slip from Aoba as the younger man raised himself onto his knees, legs spread wide to straddle Mink’s muscular thighs. Aoba caught Mink’s eyes with his own, reaching one hand forward to steady himself with a grip on Mink’s shoulder and the other hand back to take Mink’s cock in hand, guiding it into place before slowly beginning to sink down, head lolling back and mouth dropping open as he adjusted to the pressure.

“You alright?” Mink asked, breathing heavily and obviously working hard to keep himself calm and still, despite the overwhelming sensation.

“Mmhmm,” Aoba squeaked out, not trusting himself to properly speak, lest he make a truly embarrassing noise.

After a few moments, Aoba nodded to Mink, giving him the go-ahead to start moving. Mink started out slow and Aoba felt his heart squeeze at the care that Mink was putting into this. The man touched Aoba like he was worshipping him, fingers trailing over the expanse of Aoba’s back tenderly, lips pressing kisses to every bit of exposed skin that he could reach. 

Aoba did his best to respond in kind, but soon found himself unable to keep up any amount of rational thought as they began to lose themselves in the act, speeding up their movements and letting moans fall from their lips like water, showering each other in sweet words and reverent gasps of each other’s names. Aoba could feel every inch of Mink’s cock inside him, rubbing him in all the right ways, and he knew from the low, rumbling groans that Mink let out with each thrust that Mink felt much the same. 

“Oh my god, Mink!” Aoba panted, thighs burning with the effort of bouncing himself in Mink’s lap, a high-pitched moan tearing its way out of his throat as Mink grasped his hips hard, pulling him down onto his cock at the exact moment he ground upward, hips lifting from the cushion of the armchair with his thrusts, getting deeper and deeper, driving Aoba insane with the pleasure.

The answering grunts that spilled from Mink’s mouth in time with each sharp movement as he indulged in Aoba’s heat only served to bring Aoba even closer to the edge, each moan higher and louder than the last as he quickly approached the tipping point, fingers digging into the muscles of Mink’s back, his nails leaving shallow half-moon shaped indents in Mink’s rich brown skin. Mink’s cinnamon scent filled his nose and clouded his mind, leaving him feeling almost drugged as Mink’s very existence, his hands, his kisses, his cock, left Aoba intoxicated.

When they came, they came together, gripping each other tightly, backs arching, chests pressing together as they both gasped for breath, closer to each other in that moment than either of them had ever been with another person, hearts beating in concert with each other. Aoba could say, in total confidence, that this, here, with Mink, was the best sexual experience he’d ever had.

They collapsed into each other, satisfied and exhausted as they work to catch their breath. Or at least, Aoba thought himself exhausted and satisfied, that is until he squirmed a bit in Mink’s hold, feeling Mink’s cock still inside him, not yet gone soft, and gasped at the sweet oversensitivity.

“Hey, Mink?”

“Yes, Aoba?” came the deep-voiced reply, his voice still husky with arousal.

“I wanna go again.”

“Hmmm,” Mink hummed rolling his hips just a little and smirking as Aoba moaned and pushed himself down against the movement in response, “I think that could be arranged.”

Suddenly Mink stood, strong, muscled arms holding Aoba in place, lifting him up as Mink removed the two of them from the chair. Something about the change in angle, or perhaps just the force of gravity bearing himself down onto Mink’s hard cock, made Aoba’s head swim and he threw back his head in an unashamedly loud moan. 

“Take me to bed, Mink,” he demanded, using what little leverage he could get while suspended in the air with Mink still inside him to rock back, to take Mink deeper, if such a thing were possible.

“Your wish is my command,” Mink grinned before claiming Aoba’s lips with his own and sweeping the two of them out of the library and down the hall to Mink’s own bedroom. 

***

They slept in the same bed that night, and the next night, and the next, settling into a pattern of happy domesticity, punctuated, of course, by the occasional round of athletic lovemaking. 

Mink couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this sort of simple happiness. He finally had company, a lover to share his meals, to sleep beside, to talk with in the evenings … He hadn’t realized that he’d been missing this, but now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine how he’d lived without it before Aoba came into his life. Aoba was a breath of fresh air in the stagnation of a life devoted to nothing but duty, to work. He was like a warm spring breeze over a wintry land, carrying the scent of flowers across the snow fields that had been Mink’s heart and soul. He replaced boredom with excitement, passion, and joy, and Mink couldn’t be more thankful.

Aoba was beautiful, and he could never be anything less. Mink held this belief as fact, as gospel, but even as he wished to ignore it, he could see the color beginning to leech from Aoba’s pink cheeks, his eyes beginning to dull. This place, at Mink’s side, it was killing him, and although Mink hesitated, not wanting to believe what was happening, there came a point at which his love for Aoba outweighed his own selfish needs. He wanted Aoba to remain with him for life, but it was becoming apparent that a life with Mink would be a short one, and Aoba deserved so much better. 

Mink knew what he had to do.

***

One morning, he woke Aoba early, rather than let him sleep as he ordinarily would have, cruelly prodding Aoba out of slumber, even as a bitter taste rose in the back of Mink’s throat at the thought of what he was about to do.

“Wha? Mink?” Aoba asked dreamily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “What’s the matter?”

“Get up,” Mink demanded, trying to hide the pain the words caused him behind a gruff exterior, “and get dressed. It’s time you left here.”

“What?” Aoba sat up abruptly, emotions flowing across his features, first shock, then sorrow.

“You don’t belong here, and it’s time I sent you home,” Mink could feel a prickling sting behind his eyes, the foreshadowing of tears, but he blinked it away.

“You can’t be serious, Mink,” Aoba said, shaking his head emphatically.

“And yet I am. Get up and get going.”

“No, no, Mink,” Aoba’s voice was beginning to wobble as he tried to hold back a flood of tears, “No, I don’t believe this. We love each other, don’t we? I belong with you!”

By the end of the sentence, Aoba was shouting, and it took all of Mink’s will power to keep up the façade, to not break down and beg Aoba to stay. He had to do this. For Aoba’s sake.

“I’ll have Ren take you to the portal back to your world. I have work to do,” at that, Mink turned and strode away. He couldn’t have stayed any longer, he just couldn’t bear it. 

This was a goodbye that had to happen, no matter how much it hurt. Aoba would go back to his own world, and his color and health would return to him. In time, Mink knew, Aoba could meet someone else; he could love again and live a long, happy life with that other person. A life he could not have with Mink. 

Mink had to let him go.

An hour later, Aoba was walking through the woods in the company of Ren in his three-headed form. Ren whined and rubbed against Aoba’s legs, attempting to offer sympathy in the way only a puppy can. Aoba felt a little bad for the sweet animal. Ren didn’t understand what was happening, he didn’t understand that Aoba was leaving, that Mink was making him leave, nor did he understand that Aoba wouldn’t be coming back. Poor Ren would miss him, and he would miss Ren. 

Aoba tried to ignore the horrible stinging of his eyes, bloodshot and puffy with the crying, for Ren’s sake. Aoba knew the minute he got home, he’d fall apart, but he couldn’t do that in front of Ren. 

After twenty minutes or so of walking, following Ren’s lead, Aoba stumbled across a well, the mirror of the one Aoba had found in the forest in his own world, identical in every way, except that this portal would take Aoba away from Mink, instead of to him. Swallowing down a flood of emotion, Aoba quickly strode to the well, knowing that he had to do this fast, or he’d lose his nerve and melt down right there on the forest floor.  
Climbing over the rim of the well, Aoba paused for a moment before going over, turning back to give Ren one last pat on his fluffy little head.

“Goodbye, buddy,” he said, turning and jumping down into the blackness before he could change his mind, the sound of Ren’s distressed barking following him down into the dark. 

***

The world of living wasn’t nearly so bright as Aoba remembered. The sunlight of spring filtered through the trees, dappling Aoba with little spots of light as he sat beneath it, but the warmth that it infused his skin with wasn’t nearly so warm as Mink’s arms when they wrapped around him at night.

People were happy to see Aoba when he came back; they’d wondered where he’d been and now, although he’d left as an outcast, he had returned to find himself suddenly wanted. Suddenly, he was everyone’s friend, but he didn’t want to be everybody’s friend. He wanted to be Mink’s friend, Mink’s lover and life companion. He wanted to spend his days playing with Ren, kissing Mink good morning and goodnight.

He had known that he was getting sick. He knew that he was feeling weaker, more tired with each day that passed in the Underworld, but he had ignored it. It stood to reason that being a living man in the world of the dead would have an effect, but Aoba had accepted that, welcomed it even, as a fair exchange for spending each day with the man he loved. He would still make that choice, even now. 

Mink must have realized it too. Must have decided that he had to make Aoba leave, determined to save Aoba, even against Aoba’s will, like the noble asshole that Mink was. Mink loved Aoba, Aoba knew it; whatever Mink may say, what they shared was real. And it was beautiful.

But fuck it. Aoba stood up at the base of the tree he’d been sitting under. He wasn’t far now from the well that led to Mink’s land, and, clenching his hands into determined fists, he took off, making a bee-line for the well. Aoba could make his own decisions, and by god, he would.

***

Waking up in a grey fog, Aoba was not scared this time. He was not unsure. 

He stood and took off running in the direction he now knew the river lay, ignoring the rapid swishing of the tall grass against his legs as he ran, paying no attention to the humanoid shapes of spirits that appeared out of the fog, figures which quickly disappeared into the distance as he passed them. He made it to the river in hardly any time at all, commandeering the boat, despite it not being fully loaded yet. The ferryman recognized Aoba well by now, and a hard, determined glare, in combination with his order that the boat take off immediately, made the ferryman jump to it, throwing off the mooring rope and sending the boat drifting across the water.

Upon reaching the far shore, Aoba hopped the boat and got back to running, paying no regard to the line of spirits that was forming, as each soul joined the queue for judgement. Aoba wouldn’t be getting in line this time, no, he was not awaiting Mink’s judgement. Although Mink might not have known it at that moment, Mink was awaiting Aoba’s judgement, and Mink would listen.

The look on Mink’s face when Aoba pushed to the front of the line and began charging up the pile of wreckage to Mink’s throne said it all. Mink steeled his expression after a second or two, but it was too late, Aoba had already seen the look of relief, of affection and happiness that had spread across Mink’s features. 

Aoba stormed up to the man, reaching out a hand to grab the front of Mink’s shirt, pulling their faces together to give Mink a hard kiss, loaded with intent. As Mink opened his mouth to speak, Aoba put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Uh-uh, Mink,” He said, “You’re gonna listen to what I have to say. I know that I can’t stay here and stay alive, I know that. But I am choosing to stay.”

“But you’ll die!” Mink burst out.

“Yeah, I know,” Aoba interrupted, “But trying to live in the world, without you, it was killing me. You can’t say you’re saving me if I just end up dying inside. My place is here with you, and it has been ever since I first met you.”

“There’s no going back, if you stay,” Mink said quietly, voice hushed but intense.

“I’m okay with that. Make me yours,” Aoba took Mink’s hand in his own, “Let me stay.”

Mink averted his eyes, muttering, “You’re asking me to take your life?”

“I’m asking you to let me have a life here with you. What do you say?”

Aoba watched as a single tear slipped down Mink’s cheek.

“Yes,” Mink answered, “If that is what you wish, I will reap your soul so that you may remain here,” he looked up into Aoba’s eyes, words fervent, “I will love you for all eternity Aoba. I will cherish you.”  
Aoba smiled gently, “And I you. It’s time to start our immortal life together, Mink.”

Aoba stepped back so that Mink could stand, watching without fear as Mink removed what seemed to be a ceremonial hunting knife from its sheath on his belt. He smiled up at Mink, nodding to reaffirm his consent, and stepped in to wrap his arms around Mink’s broad back. Aoba would accept everything Mink had to give him, and he tried to convey it with his touch, not trusting his words to communicate quite what he needed to say.

Aoba closed his eyes, and he heard Mink take a deep breath, just as a sharp pain bloomed in his chest, as Mink plunged his knife in, the magic of the blade separating Aoba’s mortal from and his immortal soul.   
It was as if Aoba could feel his mortality falling away, dissipating like smoke in the wind, that which made Aoba specifically human severed, disconnected. Stepping back Aoba looked down to where Mink’s hand no longer held a knife, but instead a small, petal pink stone, which glowed with a soft light.

“Is that … me?” He asked, to which Mink nodded in affirmation.

Aoba reached out to take Mink’s hand, the one holding the stone, Aoba’s immortal soul, and gently closed Mink’s fingers around it.

“I’m yours now, Mink,” he said, smiling up into Mink’s eyes.

Minks smiled back, opening his palm again to reveal the stone having been rendered into a bead on a string, a necklace. Mink lifted it as if to place it over Aoba’s head, but Aoba raised his hands to stop him.  
“No, Mink. I’m yours, you wear it,” he said, taking the necklace from Mink’s hands and standing on tip-toe to loop it around Mink’s neck, placing a lingering kiss on his lips as he did so.

“So,” Aoba began, dropping back down onto his feet, a sly smile spreading across his face, “I think your work day is over for today, Mink. Let’s go home.”

There was an answering twinkle in Mink’s eyes as he responded, “Yes. To our home.”

***

They made love again that night, but it was entirely unlike any of the times before. However close they may have been in the past, they were closer now, closer than Aoba would ever have believed possible. Mink was home to him, and Aoba was home to Mink, and they found rapture in every kiss exchanged, every touch shared, in every caress, of which there were many, too many to count. 

When they came together, their bodies interlocking like puzzle pieces, it was as if they shared a soul, though perhaps, Aoba considered, feeling the pink stone in Mink’s necklace drag across his chest with each thrust of the man who now hovered above him, perhaps they truly did share one now. Their joining felt to be more than physical, but rather spiritual, as if they were learning each other from the inside out.

Mink moved in Aoba like the moon drawing in the tide, like forces inseparably tied together, drawing wave after wave of pleasure onto the beach of Aoba’s mind. They kissed like they were breathing each other, like each kiss was oxygen to a drowning man, like food to a starving man, for it nourished them, in their souls, to know that they were so deeply loved. 

Aoba cried at the beauty of it, and from the hot drops of salt water that he could feel landing on his chest as Mink moved above him and in him, Aoba could tell that Mink cried too, knowing, much as Aoba did, that he was blessed. True love is rare, but they had found it in each other, that love, the sweetest thing to exist in the world of either the living or the dead.

When ecstasy washed over them both as they tipped over the edge into bliss, they clung to each other as would castaways in a storm, blending into each other, the lines between them, separating them, blurring until they hardly existed at all. Their hearts were full to bursting with love.

Now that they were together, their burdens would be halved, but their joys … their joys would double.

***


End file.
